


Interred with their Bones

by Ani



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Humor, M/M, Prompt Fic, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 16:15:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ani/pseuds/Ani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What if the skull is John's? </p>
<p>I don't mean that the skull is John's possession. I mean that it is John's actual skull."</p>
<p>Short fill for a <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/19743.html?thread=118640415#t118640415"> prompt</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Interred with their Bones

            "I'll always have you," Sherlock growls, tightening his grip on John's wrists braced pleasurably painfully at John's back. John groans and bares his throat for Sherlock's teeth.

            "Always," Sherlock says, leaving a purple-red mark, "even after you're dead on my mantle place."

            John chuckles at that. "Am I joining the skull?" he askes, pleasantly, throatily.

            "You are the skull. Kneel and unzip me."

            But John does not obey. He kneels, but he does so slowly, staring at Sherlock with one eyebrow raised. Which makes Sherlock sigh. He does not like their little games interrupted.

            "Yes, what?"

            "'I'm the skull'?" John repeats. "Is that a term of Sherlockian endearment?"

            "No," Sherlock says. "You die in your seventies and I have your skull preserved. Then I timelock it so I could carry it with me even in the past, before I met you and couldn't yet have you."

            John continues to stare at him. Ah, Sherlock realizes, this is one of those matters humans make clear before they move from a platonic relationship into a romantic one.

            "Stand back up," he commands. John does, not so much out of obedience as deep confusion and not a little concern. "When you die, John, I give you an immortal spirit because you've allowed me to infuse your blood with mine. You needn't worry about your mortality."

            "That's not so much my concern at the moment," John says. "I'm concerned you've gone absolutely mad."

            "I'm a demon."

            Clearly this doesn't help matters.

            "I'm a demon," Sherlock says. "Fallen angel, that whole bit. Didn't care for the rules so I opted for the globe."

            "Uh huh," says John, arms crossed.

            "I sent myself a note back, about you, in the skull," he continues. "It was good of me. To know I wouldn't be alone forever. But that's how I knew you'd take the flat. That's how I know you'll let me put a bit of demon in you." He chuckles at the last bit.

            "Is this a game?" John asks. "Like a role play thing? Because if you want it that's fine, but we should really discuss it - "

            He cuts off.

            He stops talking because Sherlock has rolled his eyes and then his shoulders to loosen up the wings. The big black wings unfurling into the room, hair swirling around unseen horns becoming visible, his eyes glinting from blue to silver with a spike of red in the pupil. There's a deepening shadow that clings to him, that spreads slowly around them, but it's not a frightening one, just one that says its master has accepted his own darkness.

            "Oh," John says.

            "I will resume my mortal form if you don't mind," he says. "Staying in this body for more than a day attracts a nasty sort of sniffling thing. And the milk goes off."

            "Oh God," John says.

            "Demon," Sherlock corrects. "But you can meet Mummy if you'd like."

            "That..." John seems to be scrambling for a thought. He stares at Sherlock's wings, at the flicker of heat around him, stares at his eyes even after Sherlock retreats from his more fiendly appearance. He sits heavily into his chair. Look around the room for some support.

            "And that's my skull?" he asks finally. "That, right there, the thing I'm looking at is the skull from my own head?"

            "That's why I introduced it as a friend," Sherlock says.

            And to that, even with his world turned upside down, even with his lover and friend and other half apparently a mythical monster, and even though he's just learned he’s immortal after he dies, somehow, and even though he's held his own skull, and even though Sherlock's left a black wing on the floor and is looking irritated, like John needs to get over his existential crisis and go back to the kissing, even with all that, that comment makes him smile.


End file.
